A Sort of Meditation

Allow me, please, to touch you.  The tips of my fingers want to read the lines and scars and heal your heavy mind with a sort of meditation.  

Lie on your stomach against the bed and rest your face in your crossed forearms.  Close your eyes and breathe, letting go of every thought except right here and right now.  I am naked and warm kneeling beside you, my voice is quiet and soothing as if it’s telepathically what you crave.  

Gently, along your shoulders, I will begin tracing the shape of your scapula, enough for you to know they are there, but gently allowing the nerve endings at the ends of each digit to consume any worry.   I will move along your skin registering the different textures between  places with body hair, or creases or a raised freckle.  I like It when your body involuntarily reacts with chilly bumps if I scratch with fingernails. 

Gaining more deliberate pressure, I begin a rubbing massage, I want you to feel good, shedding any ache.  My erect nipples touch the back of your thigh as I reach down your legs.   Do you notice the differences between intensional touch and an accidental graze?  Do you notice that I am enjoying these sensations as much as you?  

Furthering the experiment of what you may note, I gather the growing wetness from between my thighs and return again to your shoulders.   Perhaps, I finger paint a little heart.   At first matching warmth but cooling in the quiet air to make the imprint more vivid.  

And now licking to discover how I taste combined with your skin.  

You are aroused, too.  You push your pelvis into the mattress.  A little weighted pressing attention to your penis.  A flex of your glutes.  I like this.   My hands return to your butt and caress your cheeks and finger between.  Unspoken, but I know you like to be touched there.  You’re gently moving your hips, unhindered by the shame we all are forced to carry when we’re learning what pleasure is.  “Let your mind go and your body will follow.”

Roll over and allow me to kneel between your legs, my eager hands continuing to touch every inch of you.  My arousal becoming more evident as I get hungrier. Kissing your belly, touching your nipples, licking the tip of your dick — the drop of precum a delightful compliment.  

Again, I want you to feel every sensation separately, noting the differences between my tongue when it’s moving along the shaft or while deep inside my mouth.  I want you to notice my teeth.  I want you to feel my breath enjoy my hair as it softly falls over my face.   While you are prone here, my fingers are exploring, perhaps sharing wetness from my cunt with the edge of your asshole and circling gently while the end of your cock sinks rhythmically deeper until I gag a little.   Keep going meet me with your thrusts. 

Remember:  right here and right now.  Reverent focus.   Nothing else matters except this altered worship and release.  And when you do, I will share it as I raise from my position of prayer to kiss your mouth.   An offering which is bountiful and binds us in this attainment of bliss.